The Kill
by BlazeInfinity
Summary: King Stennis I of Aedirn. A poisoner, coward and schemer. Having done many things he did not like... all in the name of Aedirn. A take on the two days between his coronation and the summit at Loc Muinne. Gameverse, evidently.  Rated T for the language.


**So. Aye, well, long story short, back when I was reading the Witcher books – excellent books, read them all – Demawend was always my favourite king of all the Nordling kings, and Aedirn was always my favourite country, alongside Redania. So what if he kept hunting down terrorists? Do you concede defeat to someone who aims to do nothing less than destroy your nation, hell, drive you to the sea? No. You kill them.**

**Now, recently, I did my ultimate playthrough of The Witcher 2. Every, even the slightest decision, I thought out for hours, trying to carve out a strong North, and perhaps even more importantly, a strong Aedirn. A unified Aedirn. Without some elvenphile whore to have provinces break away. In the ultimate result, I felt as if I had hacked past the game, discovered some secret path in which the impending invasion by Nilfgaard didn't seem half as threatening. Sure, Temeria got divided up, what is depressing. I ended up being the friend of nor Iorveth nor Roche, and I wouldn't care about Iorveth much, but Roche is epic. It's sad to sacrifice him for political order. The Council and Conclave survived, and of course an inquisitorial synod would be hilarious in the world of The Witcher, but whatever. Mages are people too… at least Yennefer is. And maybe Triss. And also everyone else who never attempted assassinating their kings. The good things: The Scoia'tael are doomed to go back to the forest: Saskia's dead. Stennis was crowned, which leads promise of a good king. All the Northern Kingdoms want Saskia out of the Pontar Valley. Sile de Tanserville is dead, serves the bitch right. Phillippa got her eyes poked out. Serves that bitch even more right after she had forced Dijkstra – the guy was epic back in the day – to flee. And another thing: with Saskia dead, Upper Aedirn would fall. All in all, a glorious victory for Aedirn, a united Aedirn under King Stennis I.**

**I'd grown particularly fond of Stennis during the game. He never did anything particularly wrong; Saskia was a rebel and an enemy. She deserved to die. The Aedirnians worshipped her although she never seemed to actually **_**do **_**much, just talk all the time. Stennis brought what remained of Aedirn's army north. He led the negotiations with Henselt and threatened him into a war. He was the prince of Aedirn, goddammit, and all the peasant fools should've just let him lead. He was an experienced military commander, and, although nobody bothered to hear, his opinion is clearly summed up in his words, taken from his almost-namesake, Stannis of A Song of Ice and Fire: "Let me be the light that shines your way through this darkness." Stennis had lost his father: losing his life and his throne would've been simply unfair, and a historically unjust end to a great dynasty. All he really wanted to do was prove to the people of Aedirn that he was a just and righteous ruler, aiming for nothing but the good of his loyal subjects. And I didn't really see the "poisoner, coward and schemer" part in it anyway.**

**But anyway. I've pissed you off long enough with this introduction. Here's the story: it's set in the two days between Stennis's coronation and the summit at Loc Muinne. Enjoy. Or not. Whatever.**

**Recommended background music, despite the story's name: **_**Crownless **_**– Nightwish.**

* * *

><p>"Stennis, son of Demawend III, Prince of Aedirn and the Duke of Vengerberg! The gods have blessed you with a crown and a great many victories, in Vergen and on the steps of Hagge Castle. All the dukes and lords of Aedirn agree: the gods've given you their own blessing. In the name of the kingdom, the gods and the lords offer you your father's crown."<p>

So long. So hard, the road's been. Now, as Stennis clutched his greatsword and knelt before the High Priest of Melitele in Aedirn, in the damp, draughty hall of Vengerberg's temple, he could not understand one thing. Why the gods, if they thought him destined to be a king, decided to make it so difficult?

Of course, he did not fear challenges. Never again. He had the right to fear, to terror when he was a little child in the gardens of Vengerberg. When Bill the Ox challenged him to spar, he never would. He'd run and take cover on his mother's lap. Until the age of sixteen… when he returned to Vengerberg after the Second Nilfgaardian War with his father. Until he beat Bill the Ox black and blue with nothing but his own fist. That exile had made a man out of him: in Redania, Demawend III spent very little time with his son, and Stennis's mother had died on the way, fleeing across Mahakam. A sudden cold gripped her and would not let go even unto death. Stennis, in that exile, grew up. Remarkably quick.

"Stennis, son of Demawend! Do you swear on all your ancestors to protect the realm with all your might? Will you not give up a single foot of your sovereign realm to any foreigner lord? Will you protect the unity and integrity of your realm, and the good name of Aedirn and your dynasty?"

Tactly chosen questions, but rhetorical. He was the light that shone the way through this darkness. He was the red blood and the golden spirit of Aedirn. He was the son of Demawend, the greatest tactician that the Northern Kingdoms ever saw, the scion of Vengerberg. The savior of the land and the people.

"I swear on my blade and the spirit of my father King Demawend III, lord of all Aedirn. I will protect the land and protect the people, irrespective of race and rank. I will not let anyone seize as much as a foot of Aedirnian land. No king can claim any dominion over the lands of this nation and no king will be given such a right," this sentence was added to personally tick off Saskia, "I swear to end the turmoil and chaos that ravages our land – I swear to return this realm to its former glory. I swear on all the gods to protect the unity, integrity, and good name of the realm and the dynasty."

Every word meant to a letter. As that bitch Dragonslayer and her peasant retinue would soon learn, as they had to their pain at Hagge.

At Hagge, Stennis, barely released from captivity, gathered 2,000 men, barely a few hundred cavalry, from the forces of the most powerful lords in this country. Apparently, they had forged a coalition, devoured up those who opposed, and now wanted him on the throne and able to counter Saskia's claims to Upper Aedirn. The new king in all but name was outnumbered, however. Rebels, mostly without a leader, gathered a taskforce of five thousand, of whom the majority were Scoia'tael. They went for Hagge: had they seized it, Saskia's demands would be seen in a wholly different light by the world than a simple revolt against lawful authority. Sure, she defeated Henselt, but to the public, it was a victory won by Stennis and by Aedirn. Upper Aedirn was still only a province. Hagge, meanwhile, was the greatest fortress on the northern border of Aedirn. It was not technically part of Upper Aedirn: already outside the Dyphne, built on former Temerian soil seized by Virfuril, Demawend III's father. Neither had it fallen to Saskia's uprising. However, had it, Saskia would've had enough land to actually truly demand a kingdom.

It didn't. The well-trained 2,000 men, fighting for Aedirn rather than blindly for some dragonslayer wench, destroyed the elven shits and the uncivilized peasants. The Squirrels were proven, once and for all, to be unsuited to proper battle on a field. They broke into utter, demonic chaos when Stennis's three hundred horsemen flanked them, and collapsed as his infantry marched on them, circling them from the other side. They knew nothing of strategy in an open field. Hagge had withstood the storm without much difficulty.

It was not his victory at Hagge that won him acclaim, though. Instead, he offered all the prisoners – whole three thousand prisoners, the other two either dead or dying – mercy. Absolute mercy. Complete amnesty. All of them, except the most hardcore Squirrels, accepted. They were disarmed and allowed to go. Some even enlisted.

Stennis did not want to interrupt such a good beginning to ending this revolt, even for a coronation. Another nine thousand troops were at Hagge in three days' time; most of them volunteers, some cheaper mercenaries, and the absolute majority troops sent by the previously unconvinced lords. Now that they were convinced that Stennis was and should be the true king of Aedirn and the heir to the throne, they were eager and willing to crush Saskia's revolt and bring peace to the nation.

After all, without peace and him on the throne, they'd have no king to turn to and beg for privileges.

Then, quietly, whispers reached him from the royal secret service: Saskia had gone to Loc Muinne. Or, at least, she was no longer in Vergen. Stennis remembered that he smiled when he heard that. The dragonwench lost the war. By leaving Vergen, she doomed her uprising to fall apart in minutes.

Then, he wasn't at all scared of the prospect of leaving Hagge for Vengerberg to assume his father's throne. He left his best thousand soldiers at the city, before heading south with the other ten, ready to go to war as soon as this would be over.

"With the grace of the gods, I, Oltern of Berglaren, High Priest of Aedirn, proclaim you, Stennis, son of Demawend," the priest raised the crown and slowly, moving it slightly further with every letter, placed it on Stennis's head, "proclaim you to be graced by the gods, destined to rule the land of Aedirn. You knelt a prince, Stennis, son of Demawend. Now rise… a king!"

Stennis rose. Deliberately slow, as the crown, heavy with the thoughts of all the kings who wore it before him, sat firmly on his head.

Quickly, with a hasteful but none the less firm step, the new king of Aedirn went for the doors, followed by a throng of nobles. The sunlight struck him straight in the face as the High Temple's gates went open and he found himself on a platform at the foot of the High Temple.

Before him, before the platform, massed thousands upon thousands of the denizens of great Vengerberg, jewel of the North; gathered to see the formal coronation of the man who had, they so thought at least, singlehandedly brought down Henselt and the might of Kaedwen. The son of their old and much loved, even if rather fierce and cold, king Demawend III.

"His Majesty Stennis, the First of His Name, by the grace of the gods, King of Aedirn, Sovereign of the Pontar Valley, Duke of Vengerberg and Supreme Duke of Dol Blathanna!"

First blinded by the sun, now Stennis found himself deafened by the cheers and roars that broke out. There was "King Stennis!" and also "Son of Demawend!" and "Henselt's Bane!" as people'd started calling him ever since he refused to surrender Upper Aedirn to Henselt, and even a few cries of "Death to the rebels!" and "Death to Saskia!" and "Hang the Squirrels!". To his great pleasure, he heard not a single cry of "The Virgin of Aedirn!" in the crowd. It was his and his father's moment, again under the sun. Saskia could go plough herself at this point. She lost at Hagge, thus denying her the ability to be seen as anything more than a rebel. Soon, her uprising would die. Painfully. At Vergen, a motley crew of rebels of varying importance stayed: dwarves and peasants, injured after the battle at Vergen… and no Saskia. She was at Loc Muinne, intelligence said, and while Aedirn's intelligence did shit-all when it was really needed, it was probably right. From Vergen, the nobles left soon after defeating Henselt, alongside Stennis. No noble wanted to stay under the banner of a traitor to the nation. Some peasants, and most of the intelligentsia, left too. Anyone who could think for a second and realize they were fighting for Aedirn, not Upper Aedirn, decided to leave. By the time Saskia returned – if she returned – Vergen would, most likely willingly, have given in. The peasants were too weak to resist, the dwarves too demoralized, and the elves had, rumors spoke, started killing each other. Namely, the Scoia'tael seemed to have decided the local elves were too moderate and too little of a rebellious factor of the society, and everyone else decided that they were sick of the Scoia'tael. Iorveth had left Vergen too, apparently – and that meant a demise for this revolt, once and for all. More than a handful of Vergenis kept thinking things over and found that they were fighting nor for the Pontar Valley nor for Saskia, but instead, for Aedirn. For a strong, unified Aedirn. Under its true king.

As the new King of Aedirn and Sovereign of the Pontar Valley – he kept repeating it in his mind – waved to his adoring public, a thought crossed his mind. What if he sent assassins to Loc Muinne? Tracked Saskia down, killed her, then that bitch Eilhart, that sod Iorveth? He'd not touch, of that traitors' gang, only the witcher – he was evidently innocent, placed in the center of events by a freak accident, and not to mention, he spared Stennis's life when the peasantry wanted to lynch him. He was no fool: without Saskia, this revolt would fall apart and its other remaining leaders would humbly beg their just king for his forgiveness. He'd grant it, of course. They were his subjects. Maybe lynch a few of those who wanted to lynch _him_… but otherwise, by now he knew a lot more than he once had. He knew what the commonfolk wanted – bread, land and freedom. A personal freedom for each of them. They wanted to be treated justly. And Stennis, perhaps more than most kings, could sympathise with such a wish. Saskia dead, and he could prove to them he can treat them just as fairly…

No.

He could not let himself fall so astray. That was the voice of Henselt, and of ungodly, unjust men like him that he heard speak. He already once almost stooped to the level of whoever had his father killed by trying to poison her. Though a blade in the dark would suit that whore Eilhart, Saskia deserved to die a warrior's death. The swordswench had to die fighting; that was how she'd want to, Stennis knew, and he respected her enough to concede her such a fate.

Better yet, she could surrender. But Stennis knew – she wouldn't. She was a true Aedirnian warrior, mighty and proud – it was depressing she decided to betray her prince- her _king_, now – and her country.

An old, bald man in heavy Aedirnian military armor appeared – or rather, clambered towards – Stennis, knelt, and stretched out his sword; not daring to raise his eyes, toward the new king.

"Your Majesty, I, Tenril Felart, Count of Tiel, do so pledge my loyalty, my blood, and my honor, to the protection of your person and your reign."

Felart. Pshaw. The Felarts had shit for honor, the leading conspirator who was so kind as to sell Upper Aedirn to Henselt having been this particular Felart's nephew. After executing him, Stennis thought it logical to make this old man, much more loyal to the royal bloodline even if for the sole reason of being a coward, Count of Tiel. Vergen's surrounding lands also fell under this Felart's jurisdiction now – it'd be him taking responsibility of making sure the revolt ends permanently, thus quite ironically reversing what his nephew did: allowing Aedirn to reclaim its land. Stennis trusted Tenril for the sole reason of ninety percent of his personal guard consisting of men handpicked by Stennis, ordered to dispose of the Count should such a need arise.

A dark-haired, rather young man with a rather brutal slash across his face approached, dressed in a black doublet. He also bowed and knelt, stretching out his sword.

"I, Duke Irnewald of Hagge, swear on all my ancestors and all the gods to protect and serve your royal person, your Majesty. Your reign and the unity of your realm I will guard with my blood."

It seemed suitable that a noble from Upper Aedirn swear to guard the _unity of the realm_.

"Your honor is my life, your Majesty. So say I, Duke Aynkirt de Aldersberg."

The old Duke de Aldersberg died a traitor's death in the battle of Vergen, leading the Kaedwenis under the walls into the town. The new one was a cousin of Demawend's, a tall, slender man, with a closer relation to Stennis than to the other de Aldersbergs.

"Death to all your enemies, sire," the old Count of Asheberg said, and just for a second Stennis thought he had nodded toward Upper Aedirn.

"Your Majesty, my and all of Dol Blathanna's loyalty is yours, now and forever," Enid an Gleanna, Duchess of Dol Blathanna, said, kneeling. Stennis had only seen the Flower of the Valleys once before a long time ago, and he simply refused to be amazed to see that the most beautiful woman in the world, the witch-duchess of the Valley of the Flowers (what irony) had not changed a bit. He made a mental note to make sure to have some of his more problematic elven prisoners deported to Dol Blathanna.

And finally… Eins Umnert, Count of Eysenlaan. No less than Stennis's own uncle of the second degree. He almost grudgingly bowed his head, but with a more sincere expression written on his face than most. He, too, offered Stennis his blade.

"Demawend has left Aedirn a son just as great as his father, it would seem. You have my blade, my loyalty, and my oath to uphold them, your Majesty."

Stennis nodded quickly to the lords of Aedirn, and gestured to them to stand.

"Thank you, noble lords. People of Aedirn! I promise you that my reign will give you what your have longed for. Peace and prosperity. This is a great land! But it is not the kings that make it great, no. It is the people who are in truth the spirit of a country. Folk of Aedirn, I call on you: stand with me. Raise your tools and your swords, and heed this call! Let us make an era of prosperity here in these ruins of old Aedirn. But first, we need to restore the unity of this land! We need to reclaim the Pontar Valley and drive the usurper and her dogs from Upper Aedirn!"

"Aedirn! One Aedirn!" the words echoed through the crowd.

"Plough the Virgin!" someone with more personality and a better sense of humor replied. "King Stennis, the only king we'll follow! Not some peasant girl!"

"Saskia'll not take Upper Aedirn from Aedirn! We'd not died to keep it from Henselt only to have it fall to the Dragonplougher!"

Some were grimmer; the nonhumans, in particular. But then something happened what Stennis had no reason to expect. A man, wearing a typical peasant's clothing and bearing no banner but a white flag and an olive branch approached the platform, slamming through the crowds.

When he collapsed at Stennis's feet, prostrating himself before the king, Stennis realized it was no man. It was an elf.

"Your Grace…" the elf spoke, in a pitifully weak voice. "I have come from Vergen. The Scoia'tael started massacring innocent humans, without Iorveth to control or the Dragonslayer to pacify them. The garrison has driven them off… but Yarpen Zigrin, one of the dwarven commanders, fears for the people of the town, fears they may return. We've been foolish, your Majesty. Zigrin has sent me to beg your forgiveness for Vergen, and beg that you quickly march to reinforce us. In exchange, Zigrin promises Vergen's loyalty, for now until eternity."

Stennis knew everything was now or never. He knelt and raised the elf to his feet, nudging him toward a chamberlain. "Make sure this elf is fed."

Then, he turned back to the crowd. "My subjects will be protected, especially from the Scoia'tael," he spoke, calmly, "irrespective of their race or rank, or gender. My men shall march to Vergen and do what the Virgin could not, tomorrow."

This was working all too well. Stennis had the feeling something was terribly amiss, as he always did, when things were working out great.

When he was going to march into Vergen, the first thing he'd do would be disarm the garrison. Of course, even if Saskia would hear what a terrible blow she took, up in Loc Muinne, she'd not surrender. Tiel was still under rebel control, and none of them wanted Felart back much. What would facilitate the need for some _accident _at some point, most likely. Berg Aen Dal, the fortress by the Dyphne in the Blue Mountains, remained something of a permanent battlefield between rebels and loyalists ever since the end of the war. She still had enough ground to demand a crown.

Of course, she'd get none. Stennis had assurances from all the Northern monarchs from Radovid V of Redania all the way down to Meve of Lyria and Rivia: Phillippa Eilhart was to die, and Saskia to not get a shred of land. Iorveth was to be captured, and the witcher too… though not only did Stennis doubt the last two, his spies, under his direct orders, did pretty much everything to make sure the witcher, to whom he, it so happened, owed his life, would survive.

As he waved goodbye to his adoring public, and got on a horse to ride for the royal palace – symbolically, as he was actually going to leave for Berg Aen Dal soon – followed by a host of nobles and knights, Stennis knew one thing. Whatever happens… the gods had no intention to make his rule simple. And whatever happened, he had something Saskia did not.

Saskia fought ignorantly, for a depressingly unachievable dream of a society in which everyone was equal – equal in a world where equality was, at the very least not yet, popular. Stennis… he had a vision, not a dream. A very clear vision of a strong and peaceful Aedirn. His father Demawend's vision. And his grandfather Virfuril's. Saskia already lost. Stennis had just begun to win.

The wench was respectable, and her ideals Stennis respected even more. He knew Aedirn needed a gentle, caring king, far from the coldness of his father or the sheer, almost barbaric might of Virfuril. Aedirn needed a king who could one day be called, "the Kind" or "the Just". Stennis'd have chosen the latter, if not for Vizimir II of Redania having already borne such a grand name.

One thing he was sure of, though. Aedirn needed _him _much more than it needed Saskia.

As he entered the royal palace, hundreds of pleased expressions greeted him. The servants and the royal guard, they knew him ever since he was a child in the gardens of this palace and knew he, more than anyone, deserved that throne. He smiled, passing as they bowed and knelt, and hailed him and paid their respects. He was the hope of this nation. His was this earth, this land, and this palace. His was the Golden Throne of Baldwin, the ancestral lands of the Aedirnians, promised to him by the gods – otherwise, why would he have been born a prince? His, and nobody else's, was the earth and gold and blood of this kingdom. No smelly peasant would sit his throne, now and forever.

It was that feeling in his heart – a feeling of pride and his people's devotion – that accompanied him all the way to the throne room. His father's old throne room… closed, until succession resolved itself. It was so sweet to open its doors again and enter it with the procession of nobles. It was cleaned to the smallest details, the statues of the old kings of Aedirn sparkling, pure white marble… Fridric I the Founder, his brother Arnulf, Arnulf's son Demawend I… Fridric II, Baldwin I, with his great eagle Ern perched atop his sword handle, Demawend II, Arlund I and II, Andemont I and a succession of three Baldwins, the last one, Baldwin IV the Great. A man all kings should look up to, who established solid borders for Aedirn in the north and south. His son Videmont I the Grim, whose daughter Agnes married, despite his wishes, Esteril Thyssen, who would later become king of Kovir and Poviss; Videmont's son Thyran I, and Thyran's son Virfuril the Mighty.

Beyond that, stood a statue Stennis never saw before… but he knew who it was.

Virfuril's son. Demawend III the Wise.

Also a man for many a king to look up to.

The sculptor was a master of his art. Demawend's face was disdainful, as if he had just finished talking to Henselt; his hand was on the handle of his longsword as if he still was indeed talking. Every little detail: all the laugh lines so rarely put into practice, as he hardly ever laughed, and the most unnoticeable scars on his face, and the chaotic short hair on his head, immortalized by the sculptor. For a second, Stennis thought his father'd have risen from the grave.

"Your Majesty?" Vengerberg's castellan called out. "Shall we continue?"

Stennis turned quickly, but moved away from his father's sculpture a lot slower. "Yes. Let's."

Amidst cheers from both servant and noble, guard and merchant, foreign dignitary and leading Aedirnian duke, the lowborn and the highborn, Stennis I, seventeenth King of Aedirn, ascended the Golden Throne of Baldwin. Under a beautiful summer sky, Vengerberg had a whole day's worth of festivities to mark the new king's rise, while the nobles celebrated in the great hall of the royal palace.

And in the morning, ten thousand Aedirnian soldiers, with another thousand green volunteers gathered after the coronation, left Vengerberg for Berg Aen Dal by the Dyphne.

The next evening, Aedirnian loyalists reclaimed Berg Aen Dal. Royal forces marched into town and put a halt to the slaughter. Stennis was hailed as savior by both sides, who, it turns out, were not at all keen on what's going on after Henselt renounced his claim on Upper Aedirn – without a common foe, they just started slaughtering each other because such orders arrived from both Vergen and Vengerberg. Neither of the sides really cared for Saskia after disposing of Henselt either: they were wholly not opposed at all to the concept of King Stennis, quite the opposite, really. Many were surprised to hear Saskia wanted a kingdom for herself to begin with.

The Aedirnian army arrived at Vergen's gates the same day Aedirn's messenger arrived at the mages' summit at Loc Muinne. Arrived to find the gates closed.

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><p>"Yarpen, I told you we don't need no fuckin' royal help! Stennis's as much our enemy as Henselt was, now. Let's do the same thing we did to that sod to the prince…"<p>

"_The king_. Of all Aedirn, Sheldon. You'd best remember it. We're currently in his land."

Zoltan Chivay could not believe his ears, eyes, and nose. He honestly could not believe that Yarpen would do a betrayal of such a scale without even asking them of what they think? Hell, without even asking _him_, their supreme commander!

Nor could he believe Sheldon Skaggs's idiocy at this point, "debating" Yarpen's decision with the other dwarf in public, for half the town to see. They should've gone somewhere and calmly decided what to do, not argue in the main square! The peasants were eyeing them from afar, hostility evident in their eyes. Irrespective of their decision, there'd most likely be blood: the humans, much like the dwarves, had divided themselves over the matter of what to do with the Aedirnian army outside the Metallurgists' Gate. Except most peasants were all for Saskia, despite reason. The dwarves were mostly for opening the gate – the infighting with the Squirrels struck morale disastrously, and many dwarves, especially those born and bred in Mahakam, not Vergen, had more than enough of the uprising, in particular knowing Saskia had disappeared.

And Zoltan felt as if they were right. It was about damn time this ended.

"Do you hear yourself, Zigrin?" Sheldon, however, evidently did not. "Since when do you lick royal feet like some slave?"

"Since I realized, Skaggs, that this fight is hopeless and pointless. Henselt and Kaedwen are defeated. You blind fool! Do you not realize that we're fighting against our friends now? Sure, Stennis ain't no Saskia. He's got no tits and ain't under the control of a witch. Ain't that right, Zoltan?"

Chivay's jaw dropped. "How-"

"Dandelion told me, the son of a bitch. He's a terrible liar, for such a famed bard. You'd better not fool yourselves, all of you!" he turned away from Skaggs, his eyes overlooking the crowds of people around them. "Saskia should've fought for Aedirn, and would've fought for Aedirn, if not that bitch Eilhart, who filled her ears with the idea of an abomination of a thought of a concept of a state: pshaw, the Pontar Valley! Why not aim higher, Phillippa Eilhart, queen of liars and traitor to the North? Why not establish a kingdom in Haakland? In Tretogor? The Arc Coast? Under the sea floor? The famed whorehouse "Passiflora" in Novigrad? Has anyone got any more impossible concepts of where a country might be? Eilhart stunned Saskia's poor mind with delusional, unachievable goals! She might be a genius military commander, but under that, she's a foolish poor girl! This is Aedirn, you fuckin' retards! It can be nothing else, unless Henselt would decide to invade again. Outside that gate stands an army, and at its head a man who at this point could wipe us all out but he has no such interest. Think of it, you idiotic peasants! Stennis has ten thousand men. Twice more than Henselt, who almost killed us all, had! We now have four times less than we had then. The Scoia'tael have betrayed us, and the injured cannot fight. Humans, can't you see? Your king wants a peaceful, unified Aedirn: would he have offered us an amnesty if he did not? He wants none of your blood. Shut up," he growled as the peasants began to grumble, "you ignorant fools! Don't dare spit out a single word about how he has wronged you or your _stupid _Virgin of Aedirn! If she was truly of Aedirn, she'd have helped Demawend's son ascend the throne instead of seizing for herself a prick of a kingdom in the Pontar Valley! Aedirn, you idiots! Aedirn! Not some fuckin' Upper Aedirn! Aedirn! Think of how Stennis himself must have felt when you, Aedirnians, you traitorous bastards, shouted Saskia's name and he was there to hear! He fought none the less bravely than any of you! But unlike you _traitors, _he fought for Aedirn! But unlike Saskia, he fought unrewarded! He fought and fought, for Upper Aedirn to remain Aedirnian, but none of you bothered to thank him once!"

Silence fell. The peasants and Sheldon Skaggs lowered their gazes, as they met Yarpen's enraged eyes. Cecil Burdon nodded surprisingly energetically, despite having just witnessed such a grandiose rant.

"Open the gates."

Nobody dared disobey. Yarpen Zigrin walked past Zoltan, a sulky expression on his face. Dandelion, who'd been observing this whole debacle, his back against a nearby tree, gently struck the strings of his Dol Blathannan lute. Just one, meaningless note.

"You know, I never thought of things that way. Like Yarpen put it. Could be a good motive for a ballad, you know."

"Oh, plough your ballads, Dandelion," Zoltan hissed and prepared himself for the task, as the commander-in-chief, of greeting the King. Namely, he positioned himself at the most distant end of the main street leading from the Metallurgists' Gate and straightened himself, to be joined by Yarpen and the human commander minutes later.

Quietly, Dandelion strummed his lute's strings.

_Come break me down_

_Bury me, bury me_

_I am finished with you_

_Look in my eyes_

_You're killing me, killing me_

_All I wanted was you_

* * *

><p>Stennis and his army rode through the gates, and flowers fell at their horses' feet, despite what he might've expected. He searched the people's faces. What he found there shocked him to the core.<p>

They seemed almost sorry.

Stennis laughed. Didn't know why. He just did. A quiet, sad laugh.

He reached the point where Zoltan Chivay, Yarpen Zigrin and another peasant, the commander of Saskia's peasant militia, waited.

They knelt. And gave him their swords.

Stennis smiled, but somehow, that smile looked rather tainted with pain. He knew: somewhere in the great beyond, his father's spirit was either laughing or proud.

"Get up. All three of you. And take your swords."

Yarpen glanced, a long good glance, at Zoltan's face. Then slowly got up.

"To Mahakam," every bone in both their bodies seemed to say at the time, "Home."

* * *

><p>As Yarpen and Zoltan, and Sheldon, and most of the Mahakaman dwarves prepared for the journey west, toward Mount Carbon, Dandelion had finished the ballad. As he followed the dwarven procession out the gates of Vergen, in an oxcart alongside Yarpen and Zoltan drinking Zerrikanian kumis, he took out his lute again and struck the strings gently once more.<p>

_What if I wanted to break  
>Laugh it all off in your face<br>What would you do?  
>What if I fell to the floor<br>Couldn't take all this anymore  
>What would you do?<em>

_Come break me down_  
><em>Bury me, bury me<em>  
><em>I am finished with you<em>

_What if I wanted to fight_  
><em>Beg for the rest of my life<em>  
><em>What would you do?<em>  
><em>You say you wanted more<em>  
><em>What are you waiting for?<em>  
><em>I'm not running from you<em>

_Come break me down_  
><em>Bury me, bury me<em>  
><em>I am finished with you<em>  
><em>Look in my eyes<em>  
><em>You're killing me, killing me<em>  
><em>All I wanted was you<em>

_I tried to be someone else_  
><em>But nothing seemed to change<em>  
><em>I know now this is who I really am inside<em>  
><em>Finally found myself<em>  
><em>Fighting for a chance.<em>  
><em>I know now, this is who I really am<em>

_Come break me down_  
><em>Bury me, bury me<em>  
><em>I am finished with you<em>  
><em>Look in my eyes<em>  
><em>You're killing me, killing me<em>  
><em>All I wanted was you<em>

"You know what's really depressing, Dandelion?" sighed Zoltan, lightly clapping his hands in the process. "This ballad'll never become popular. People won't want to see Stennis as we saw him. There'll be those to whom he'll be a great ruler, too mighty to have such doubts. A fuckin' god, even. There'll also be those who'll hate him too much to tolerate him being not that bad as a person. The smallfolk've heard him talk a thousand times, but in Upper Aedirn, they only heard him when Saskia was gone. The world does not like to accept that kings and princes are as human as we are. Well, you, anyway. I'm no fucking human at all."

"Someone'll listen," Dandelion replied, with a solemn tone of voice as if he was trying to reassure himself of this. "Someone'll read. It's more than enough."

"In Mahakam, most definitely. Be it this ballad or any other, we don't like music unless it's us singing when we're drunk."

* * *

><p><strong>Wow. This was long.<strong>

**So yeah, this concludes the story of what happened in those two days between Stennis's coronation and Loc Muinne.**

**A few end of story notes:**

**1) On my remarks about Hagge not being part of Upper Aedirn: In the map included with the Witcher 2, Hagge is shown to be in Upper Aedirn. Canonically, while technically it could be considered to be so, it's not part of "mainline" Upper Aedirn/Lormark, being outside the Dyphne, unlike it is shown in said map. I believe the map for the original Witcher game portrayed it correctly.**

**2) Very keen people may notice that my list of kings of Aedirn is not canonical. I have made it up because in the game, there were seventeen kings of Aedirn, including Stennis. In the books, Demawend was the fifth (not to mention he was Demawend I in the books, not Demawend III), making Stennis (if we consider his existence canonical to begin with, that is) the sixth. Let's not make an elephant out of a mouse: if we want to stick to the canon all the time, then I'm afraid Geralt and Yennefer are dead, sorry to say.**

**3) The monikers of the kings are also not canon, except for the mention of Vizimir II of Redania being called Vizimir II the Wise.**

**4) In the game, Dol Blathanna is constantly referred to as an independent kingdom. The more I play, the more I'm becoming sure the makers never read the last book. It's a duchy. Under the provisions of the Peace of Cintra, Enid an Gleanna surrendered its independence and became an autonomous duchy of Aedirn.**


End file.
